


A Lesson in Wooing (With a Little Help from William Shakespeare)

by discoveries



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Abuse of Shakespeare, Abuse of the Romeo and Juliet Balcony Scene, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, But It Seems to Work on Alec Just Fine, Closet Shakespeare Nerd Alec Lightwood, Drunk Magnus Bane, I'm Not So Sure, M/M, Magnus Bane & Ragnor Fell Friendship, Magnus Thinks He's Romantic and Charming, Meet-Cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-12-14 04:12:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11775231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/discoveries/pseuds/discoveries
Summary: Alec, having completed his term paper yet unable to sleep, decides to stand on the fire escape of his brownstone apartment to wind down. Enter a drunk Magnus Bane, who sees the opportunity to re-enact Shakespeare's most iconic scene and seizes it, intent on wooing the attractive man above him.“But soft, what light through yonder window breaks?It is the east and Juliet is the sun!Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,Who is already sick and pale with griefThat thou her maid art far more fair than she.”





	A Lesson in Wooing (With a Little Help from William Shakespeare)

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired from the prompt from [shittyaus](http://shittyaus.tumblr.com/) @ tumblr: _'I don’t like parties so I was just mulling by myself on the balcony and you started serenading shakespeare to me while being plastered.'_  
>  Alec isn't at a party but Magnus is definitely plastered and _definitely_ abusing Shakespeare in the most brazen attempt at flirting mankind has ever seen.
> 
> I know I should be updating Stop the World but I've been going through some stuff and am also in the process in changing elements of the chapters I've pre-written. Weekly updates should start again soon!
> 
> Please be gentle with this one, it's just a bit of fun (god knows we need it with the current state of Malec ~~just kidding GIVE ME MORE DRAMA~~ ) At the time of posting, this work is unbeta'd! I'll check through it when I'm not a zombie!

There are many things in life Alexander Gideon Lightwood considers himself thankful for, though most if not all of them could be considered a double-edged sword. Case in point: his parents are successful people with more than enough money to see him and his siblings through college. The downside to that is all his parents care about are their respective careers and their reputations in the New York elite society - their relationship with their children is strained at best. Another example would be that said parents made the wise choice to invest in a brownstone apartment in Brooklyn years ago which he and his siblings now live in during college. The other side to that is that they’re woefully close to other NYU dorms, which means wasted college kids and a lot of singing at all times of the night at weekends.

Though then again… Alec isn’t really what one would call an optimist, but even the local wildlife (fellow college kids) can be entertaining. There’s been some random event close by and the streets have been full of people all night. He’d battled through the majority of the ruckus with his earphones plugged into his laptop on high volume and a small hoard of energy drinks to finish his term paper, which he’d thankfully finished before sunrise. He has no work tomorrow and thanks to his near-overdose of sugared poison there’s no way he’s going to sleep anytime soon, so he throws on a sweater and steps out onto the rickety external fire escape outside his window. He’d had to fight both Jace and Izzy for this room, wielding his superiority as the eldest sibling whilst also arguing that the person with fire escape access would be the first to die when a murderer or burglar broke into the apartment. The struggle had been worth it in the end, for moments like this. It’s pretty cold, unsurprising when it’s closer to sunrise than sunset, but he’s more than content to stand out there, leaning against the black railing to watch the drunk people walking past his building to go home - or to the next party.

The number of people eventually peters out, but Alec’s still wide awake and a little wary of a possible heart attack, so he stays where he is, turning his eyes instead to the inky black sky and losing himself to his thoughts.

“ _But soft, what light through yonder window breaks?_  
_It is the east and Juliet is the sun!_  
_Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,_  
_Who is already sick and pale with grief_  
_That thou her maid art far more fair than she._ ”

Alec is jolted from his half-made plans for the following day by the most obnoxiously inebriated and yet still eloquent yelling he’s ever heard in his 21 years of life. He lowers his hazel gaze from the flashing lights of a plane above to a spot on the pavement on the other side of the street where two men stand.

Well, one is standing. The other one… well, it seems the only thing keeping him steady is the hold the other has on his wrist, since their arms are taut and he’s somewhat diagonal. They’re under a streetlamp, so the shiny translucent shirt he’s wearing catches the light brilliantly, as do the collection of silver necklaces and earrings he’s accessorized with. Realising he has Alec’s attention he smiles, white teeth glinting in his glee, bringing his free hand up to give a jaunty wave. His friend seems to hiss something at him, tugging his wrist sharply and making his friend(?)’s body jerk with the movement.

The stranger turns to look at his company and literal support, and continues: “ _Be not her maid, since she is envious; Her vestal livery is but sick and green, And none but fools do wear it_ .” Alec’s pretty sure that’s not the context meant for the line, as he steps forward to slap distainfully at the other’s green - is that a smoking jacket? In 2017? The drunk shiny guy lets out a scoff audible even to Alec, before making a wild grab for a lapel, proclaiming very loudly “ _Cast it off!_ ”

Not a fan of his friend’s fashion choices then. He seems to be an authority on the subject, judging from how well he’s dressed himself - but still their eclecticism seems to match each other really well. Definitely friends. Especially because of the way they’re now bickering and oh-- engaging in a rather ungraceful scuffle. Alec realises they’re both drunk, but the tanned one who’s quoting Shakespeare in the middle of Brooklyn in the early hours is definitely in deeper.

Despite himself, Alec laughs. It’s just so completely ridiculous that he can’t help himself feel anything but totally amused. He rests his elbows on the railing, leaning forward more so he can see a little better, resting his chin on his hand as he rolls his eyes. The tussle ends just as quickly as it began, the guy in green stepping back to pull out his phone - to just call a cab or to call in reinforcements, Alec isn’t sure. He feels bad for the guy.

Finally free, his admirer seems to remember Alec and spins on his heel, clapping to himself once in glee when he catches him in his sights once more.

“ _See how she leans her cheek upon her hand_  
_O that I were a glove upon that hand,_  
_That I might touch that cheek!"_

He’s grinning like the Cheshire cat, and it only grows when Alec realises the stance he’s in and scrambles to right himself into a stand once more, arms slipping off the ledge and making him lose his balance for a heart-stopping second in his desperation to change his posture. The man had skipped a couple of lines in the monologue, to adapt to Alec's movement and Alec’s cheeks burn.

“I don’t know if you’re too drunk to tell, but I’m no Juliet,” he calls, feeling flustered and very, very embarrassed. “Or a ‘she’ at all, for that matter.”

There was absolutely nothing that had prepared him for some pretty drunk guy quoting lines from Romeo and Juliet’s balcony scene at him whilst he stands on his fire escape. It’s absolutely mortifying - he’s not sure if it happening in the dead of night is better or worse than if it’d happened in the middle of the day. There are fewer witnesses, but this guy clearly has a flair for the dramatic and if he wakes Alec’s neighbours (or worse, his _siblings_ ) it’s going to be a nightmare.

Nevertheless, his drunken admirer seems delighted in receiving response, and takes a few very unbalanced steps forward, standing in the middle of the street now and sweeping his arms through the air towards Alec.

“ _She speaks!_  
_O, speak again, bright angel, for thou art_  
_As glorious to this night, being o'er my head,_  
_As is a winged messenger of heaven_  
_Unto the white-upturned wondering eyes_  
_Of mortals that fall back to gaze on him_  
_When he bestrides the lazy-puffing clouds_  
_And sails upon the bosom of the air.”_

Oh god, he knows the whole damn scene doesn’t he? Alec dismisses the fluttering in his stomach to the adverse effects of too many energy drinks. It’s definitely not attraction. Some random inebriated man on the street is _not_ wooing him with God damn Shakespeare.

Except he is. It’s really working.

“You know the whole balcony aspect of this scene is the result of symbiotic plagiarism between Romeo and Juliet and The History and Fall of Caius Marius and had nothing to do with Shakespeare himself, right?” he calls down without his brain’s permission. He’s appalled at his interjection even when the man who’s now standing on Alec’s side of the street grins wider.

“ _Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?_ ” he responds playfully, dark eyes glinting mischievously even at such a distance. Alec feels that flutter again, though his instinctual reaction is to roll his eyes and scoff. “Now, now, darling,” he croons when Alec does exactly that, swaying rather dangerously on the spot. “This is very serious, and you’re breaking character.”

Alec can’t help himself. It’s fine to expose himself as a Shakespeare fanboy to a drunk man borrowing words from _Romeo_ to flirt with him, right? He’ll never see him again, and the guy probably won’t even remember this tomorrow. So he sighs, resigning himself to the ridiculousness of the situation he’s somehow found himself in. “Sorry. _What man art thou that, thus bescreened in night, so stumblest on my counsel?_ ”

If possible, the man now standing below the fire escape lights up even more, glossy(?) lips stretching to a huge, genuine smile. He’s about to speak up again, when he’s mercifully cut off.

“Magnus, come on,” his friend cuts in, having paid more attention to his phone than the particulars of the ludicrous exchange. “You’ve had far too much to drink tonight.” He has a British accent, which makes him sound that much more imperious as he strides across the street to grab the other man’s shoulder. “Let’s get you home, my dear friend.”

Magnus? It’s a nice name, despite how unusual it is. Like it would be at home in a play, Alec thinks with a blush despite the secrecy of the ludicrous thought. _Magnus_ turns to shove his friend’s hand off, frowning petulantly. “Oh Ragnor, get _off_ me! I finally land in the once-in-a-lifetime situation of finding a gorgeous human on a balcony, and he knows Shakespeare? This is the stuff dreams are made of and you are _ruining it!!_ ” There’s another scuffle, which ends in a dramatic huff from the British guy - _Ragnor?_ \- which is more than worthy of Magnus’ company.

“I think he’s right you know,” Alec calls down, surprised at himself for continuing to itneract with the inebriated madman. He isn’t the type for socialising in general, and he’s definitely not the type to suffer fools gladly. Except.. Except Magnus, despite being really quite drunk, doesn’t come across as a fool at all. He’s nothing but charming and for what feels like the hundredth time in the past few minutes, Alec wonders how this is even happening. “You seem like you’re gonna reach the point of throwing up or passing out pretty soon. And my neighbours are going to start yelling at you to go away pretty soon.”

Magnus turns back to him with stars in his eyes, before waving a dismissive hand sloppily through the air. “Don’t worry darling, I’m a _seasoned_ drinker. Throwing up is for novices.”

“Well then you must be a novice, because last week--” Magnus laughs far too loudly to be natural and slaps a hand over his friend’s mouth, his whole body swinging with the movement in his inebriation, and he gives Alec a look that seems to say ‘ignore him, he’s talking nonsense’. Alec huffs a laugh.

Headlights cut through the air in Alec’s peripheral, and he turns to see a car pull onto his street and stop just beside the pair. “I think that’s your uber,” he says to Magnus, since the man’s hand is still over his friend’s mouth, who seems to be trying to say the same as he tries to pull them towards the car despite Magnus’ hold on him.

“I won’t get in,” Magnus declares, fighting against Ragnor’s tugging whilst trying (futilely) to maintain some dignity in front of Alec. From his elevated vantage point, Alec watches with rapt attention as Ragnor frees himself and gets Magnus in something close to a headlock, wrestling him over to the car waiting for them. He spares a thought for the poor Uber driver, who’s probably wondering what the hell is going on. “I won’t let this chance encounter go, my dear-- Wait!” Magnus is yelling, half to Alec and half to Ragnor, who has managed to get close enough to the car to open the rear door. “What’s your name?”

Alec, who has been completely suckered into being entirely entertained and also feeling somewhat sorry for Magnus, decides to give him an answer: “Alec,” he calls, a little louder now because Magnus is a little further away and fighting with his friend, who is now pushing him into the car with a foot to his behind. “Hey! These are expensive jeans!” he yells, both hands stemmed on the roof of the car to keep him out despite Ragnor’s attempts. “Alec is a lovely name!!” he says, swearing when his head is pushed down and into the car.

Having successfully manhandled his friend into the car, the guy in the weird green jacket gives a half-hearted wave of apology to Alec before getting into the vehicle himself and slamming the door shut. The disappointment floods Alec’s frame for a second before the window comes down with a faint electric-sounding buzz, and then Magnus head juts out from the empty space as the car pulls away from the curb and passes Alec’s apartment slowly as it gets going.

“I’m Magnus Bane! Don’t forget me; one day I’m going to marry you!!”

And like that the car, and the absolutely bizarre Magnus Bane disappears from Alec’s sight.

Alec stares down the street for a long time, large hands wrapped around the railing. His heartbeat is fluttering, and he’s ninety percent sure it’s not from all the cans of Red Bull he’d downed earlier.

The inky black of the night is starting to give way to the lighter hues of morning in the sky between the tall buildings all around him and Alec sighs, pushing off the railing and turning back to his window.

 _‘Being in night, all this is but a dream,’_  he thinks to himself as he climbs back into his room, absolutely mortified at how embarrassing he’s being even in the privacy of his own thoughts. ‘ _Too flattering-sweet to be substantial.’_

 

* * *

 

After a cringeworthy amount of time spent lying in his bed and thinking about Magnus and his cheesy drunken wooing, Alec manages to drift off to sleep. The stress induced by the paper he’d finished and early-morning bedtime had him sleeping a large portion of the day away, only waking up around noon. He’d heard that was regular fare for college students but Alec’s devotion to routine hadn’t suffered since entering higher education. He’s sitting at the rickety second-hand table (‘rustic vintage’ if you asked Izzy) they bought from a store a few blocks away, debating between ordering in the greasiest, cheesiest pizza or risking leaving the apartment to get some kind of meat-filled sandwich to recover from his study-hangover when Jace comes back from God know’s where. It’s a toss-up between some new fitness class he’s seen in a men’s magazine to try out or the coffee place near campus with the barista he has a crush on. He slams the door shut with a bang that makes Alec cringe, and then proceeds to whistle obnoxiously as he enters the kitchen.

“Did you hear some guy yelling really late last night?” he asks Alec conversationally, throwing a letter down onto the table and making a beeline for the fridge to-- “God damn it, Jace,” Alec complains right as said man takes the milk carton and drinks directly from it.

The blonde just gives him a remorseless side eye as he finishes his drink, shoving the carton back in the fridge door. “Aren’t you gonna read your love letter?” he asks, nodding towards the white envelope he’d dropped on the table earlier.

Alec’s eyebrows raise of their own volition as he turns from his adopted brother to the envelope. He’d assumed it was a letter, or more likely a bill of some sort, and though that kind of thing was his responsibility, he was going to leave it for later when he was feeling less dead. But the envelope isn’t right for a bill or any kind of official correspondence: it looks like something from an expensive letter stationery set. And instead on an address, all it has is his name ascribed in perfectly neat script followed by a single kiss.

What the hell?

He feels heat flood his cheeks in confused embarrassment, and imagines they only color darker when he turns to see the near-lecherous grin on Jace’s face. “It was at the top of the steps to the building when I got back,” he supplies with a shrug. “Couldn’t tell you how long it was there for. So who’s your secret admirer?”

To Alec’s knowledge he’s never had an admirer before, much less a secret one. Though a trecherous, hopeful part of himself is telling him this isn’t actually a mystery.

But he’d been so drunk last night, he’d be way too hungover right now if he even remembered, right?

Alec stands up abruptly, the mismatched chair he’d been sitting on screeching dramatically with the movement, and Jace raises a brow from where he’s leant calmly against the counter. “Alec?” he insists suggestively, way too visibly amused from Alec’s liking. “Are you involved in some kind of _romance?_ ”

The taller rolls his eyes, snatching up and rushing to his room before Jace can bug him further or worse, grab the envelope first. Locking his door behind him, inherently grateful for their group decision to install locks for privacy purposes when they first moved in, Alec huffs a breath of relief, one of his hands clutching the letter to his chest. He feels ridiculous. There’s no way it could be Magnus. Except--

It couldn’t really be anyone else.

Rubbing the side of his face at the stress, he moves to sit on his bed, observing the envelope again. There’s really nothing more to observe, though, since there’s nothing else to it other than his name and the small ‘x’ beneath it, even when he flips it over to check the other side. He needs to open it.

He’s too scared.

But he thinks of the flutter in his stomach the night before, and the blinding grin from the man on the street below, obnoxiously quoting Shakespeare at him in his inebriation.

He’s smiling and pulling the envelope open before he even realises what he’s doing.

There’s a single piece of folded paper inside; he pulls it out carefully. Before he even opens it he sees more of that elegant script, words written on the back of the main letter, so that it’s the first thing he sees when he opens the envelope:

  
‘ _Hear my soul speak:_  
_The very instant that I saw you did_  
_My heart fly to your service, there resides_  
_to make me slave to it, and for your sake_  
_Am I this patient log-man_.’

 

Alec’s insides twist and melt in the strangest of sensations as he read the quote through once, and then again. The Tempest, this time. So Magnus’ apparent expertise goes beyond that of Romeo and Juliet.

It’s completely ridiculous, or course. And cheesy. And embarrassing. And contrived. And every other similar descriptor and yet… Alec can’t deny it’s working a fucking treat on him. He bites his lip to stop his smile, discarding the empty envelope to the side and then slipping his thumb between the folded paper and opening it out.

 

 _Dear Alec,_ it reads.

_I hope I remembered that right. And that I got your building right. You know all these brownstones look the same and I was far too drunk last night to look at your door or any other identifying factor. I’m banking on the hope that when I revisit the scene of my crime (public disturbance is apparently some level of a crime, Ragnor informs me) that I’ll remember at which balcony my Juliet (that would of course be you, darling) languished._

_I also hope this letter found you at all, and that it hasn’t ended up in the trash somewhere or worse, is being read by someone other than your fine self. With the hope that this isn’t so, I’ll continue._

_Imagine my surprise when I woke up this morning to vaguely recall drunkenly re-enacting Romeo and Juliet’s balcony scene with some random attractive stranger on a fire escape. I half-thought it was a drunken fever dream until I checked my phone to numerous texts from Ragnor (my grumpy, man-handling caretaker last night) telling me in rather exquisite detail about our interaction and how ‘completely embarrassing’ I’d been. I’m inclined to agree on that final point - believe it or not I don’t make it a habit to recite Shakespearean quotes at strangers, drunk or not - but then I recalled the fact that you not only knew what I was quoting (not too difficult I admit) but also said lines back to me and seemingly new facts about the play. Surely you’re aware how rare of a find you are, at least in that aspect if not how attractive I (admittedly vaguely) recall you are._

_I realise how droll and embarrassingly (or not?) Shakespearean it is of me to write you this letter in the vague hope it will find you. But it seems we’re both romantics at heart - don’t deny it, as we both apparently know the balcony scene by heart - and as I said last night, I just can’t let this pass us both by._

_I hope you didn’t think my choice of quotation overleaf was coming on too strong. I’m also hoping you’re aware that there are much better works by our beloved Bard than Romeo and Juliet. (Is that snobbish to say?) I’m confident you do, as you seem like a man of exquisite taste._

_I was about to ask if it wasn’t too forward to give you my phone number, but I’m self-aware enough to realise that I’ve just written you a love letter based on fuzzy memory of a rather embarrassing drunken encounter, which is incredibly forward in itself. I have many more lines to crudely wield in an attempt to woo you in the near future, if you’d like. If you don’t call me, I’m confident in my ability to recite a depressing soliloquy or two to handle the rejection, though I have to admit I do so much better with an audience._

_Whilst writing this letter, Ragnor has arrived to torment me in person. He has just informed me that I told you I was going to marry you one day. I’m impressed at my own directness, that’s got to be a record even for me._

_I hope I haven’t irreparably damaged my chances with you by drunkenly accosting you and then sending you a stalkerish letter. I’m hoping it hits on endearing and flattering rather than terrifying._

_With affection,_

_Magnus Bane._

 

Alec’s smiling by the time he finishes the letter, feeling shy and a little embarrassed at the attention. It’s not something he’s used to, or something he’d ever expected to be on the receiving end of. Still, it’s.. Nice. Really nice, actually.He runs a hand through his wild bedhead as he quickly tracks his eyes over the neat handwriting once more, just appreciating how pretty it is. And how oddly flattering it is to have someone go to the effort of writing something by hand in this day and age.

Someone had actually written him _a love letter_. After reciting Romeo’s lines from the balcony scene. In public.

But not just anyone: _Magnus Bane_ , who was dynamic and fun and dramatic and interesting and - if Alec’s being honest with himself - incredibly attractive.

He laughs, an embarrassingly breathy, excited little thing as he looks at the phone number written at the bottom of the paper. He carefully folds it back in half and places it beside him atop his sheets.. He’s going to text Magnus; there’s absolutely no doubt about that. Despite his naturally reserved personality, Alec feels the same pull Magnus seems to - the compulsion to absolutely not let this chance pass by to eventually turn into a miserable ‘what if’. There’s only the question of what he’s going to say.

With determination he stands up from his bed, walks up to his bookcase to grab his battered copy of Shakespeare’s Complete Works. He lugs it onto his desk with a dull thud, immediately opening it up. It’s a huge tome, bought years earlier in a vintage bookshop more for decoration than recreational reading - that’s what his individual paperbacks are for - but there’s an advantage to having a selection of material in one place. He needs to find the perfect response, and quickly.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!! ❤
> 
> hmu here or at my [tumblr!!](https://disc0veries.tumblr.com/)


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